Friday, January 31, 2014

Resolutions

One of my goals this year is to write at least one blog entry per month. I came up with this challenge primarily because I have a nasty case of writer's block, and I'm taking advice from the late Roger Ebert on how to deal with it: “Start writing. Short sentences. Describe it. Describe it.” In other words, I'm gonna write until something brilliant comes to me. It should also be noted, that today is the end of January; so even if nothing brilliant comes, I need to write something—anything—down.

There are several topics occupying my mind as of late. The first of which hits a tender spot. A few weeks ago, my cousin Sara Lyn, who has struggled with fertility and a longing for children after nearly a decade of marriage, has finally, through miraculous means, been able to adopt a beautiful little boy: Morgan Jr. is perfect in every way.

I bring this topic up, not to discuss adoption, fertility, Mormon societal expectations, or even motherhood. I bring it up, because it illustrates for me an important idea: “The longer the waiting, the sweeter the kiss.” My cousin is finally getting the opportunity to partake in a role she's wanted more than life itself.

In some ways, I am filled with hope because I have always thought if God could get that girl a baby, he could get me a husband. The road blocks, however, are equally daunting, as I am neither physically attractive, nor, in turn, easily attracted. I am not looking for looks, money, or social status. I'm searching for a developed emotional intelligence, intellectual substance, and a love of the Lord. I refuse to believe I'm being “picky” because I'm waiting for them. Everyone should have that in a spouse. If they don't, they're marriage won't last long.

This topic has left me truly searching the nature of suffering and of God. Why on earth would he build us for partners, if he didn't mean for us all to have one? Sometimes I despair and hate him for it. Other times, I hate myself, because when there's no one else to blame, there's always a mirror. If this is how the rest of life is going to be, I hope I die young and wealthy.

Another topic floating around my mind as of late is my newest pet: a toy black poodle puppy named Poe. He is wonderful, cute, and incredibly hard to potty train. After 8 weeks with him, I am finally starting to make some headway in that department; but Jebus it's hard.

Despite his obvious cuteness, you may wonder why I would adopted another animal—especially when I already have a cute and perfectly potty trained cat named Two Sox. That's a good question which can only be answered by explaining an experience I had two months before I got him. As most people know (or maybe you didn't know) I suffer from clinical depression. One of the symptoms of depression is a lack of interest in activities that once made you happy. For example, going outside, showering, moving from the couch for any reason, were all activities I once enjoyed before depression slipped in. One day, after not moving from the couch for a good 14 hours straight, it occurred to me, I was in serious trouble. I needed an intervention.

After that nightmare of a day, I called a friend to ask her advice on what I should do. She's a life couch and she suggested I needed something that would force me to get out of the house, whether I wanted to or not. Her solution was getting a dog. He would demand attention and I would have to give it. He would need walks and I would have to walk him. He would need someone to love and I would have to let him.

I just want you to know, I didn't make the decision lightly. I spent a good while wondering if this would just be a situation of selfish neglect. Nevertheless, the logic of the prescription finally convinced me. I did some research on breeds, needs, and signed yet another animal rental agreement, and viola! I got Poe two days after Thanksgiving. He's a shit ton of work, but he is everything I need him to be, and he is gonna make a great dog once he stops peeing on my furniture and chewing the skin off of my fingers.

The last topic I'd like to discuss is kayaking. I will remain extremely brief on this subject. I would just like to say I bought a used 16 ft kayak (two ft longer than my famous Salt Wolf), because the two ft will make me fly like the wind. And I have a trip planned in Canada the week before my birthday.

Love reading your writings. You have great insight and we know that Heavenly Father has a plan...we have to be patient, which is something many of us struggle with. I am glad that Roger Ebert still talks to you. May you always keep writing even if you have writers block, depression or whatever. Thrilled about the kayak and envious of the trip to Canada...is it the cross country trip?

Hello? Hellllllllooooooooo? ((Dark echo off a creepily vacant metal wall)). Where there once was thought, there is now nothing but vacant caverns. Did your neurons break? Did they die alongside Roger Ebert?